Like Chess
by anniebear99
Summary: World War 2 was once a seed of an idea in the back of three men's minds. Three very powerful men with three very different reasons that formed the Axis Powers. Now the world must either join forces or fight back with the Allied Forces. Each and every person is being used as a pawn by someone else, like this war is one game of chess. If they're all pawns, though, who's playing?
1. February 25, 1947

**February 25, 1947**

I'd like you to stop for a second and open up your mind to the impossible.

The world is made up of many different countries. Each country has a history with other countries, their own history, their own politics, currency, traditions, songs, people, racial backgrounds, etc. This makes them what the are, and brings a sense of nationalism among them and their people. Stand together by the people and for the people.

We think about the way the countries affect the people, but what about the affects they have on the countries?

Take that clean slate of a mind and imagine that these countries, these rich, widely developed histories, are seen and told through the eyes of a person. Not just any person, but several young men and women who have the duty of caring for a whole country with no recognition whatsoever to the choices and sacrifices they make.

They know of the outside world, for they live in it. Average citizens of the Earth, they seem to be, just traipsing by. In their reality, they experience the loss of an ally. The fear of creating an enemy. The heartbreak of losing someone extremely close to them.

What would happen if all of the world's power was in the hand of several twenty year olds?

They fight, they make up, they become friends, they fall in love, and they fight all over again. It's the way the world works. It's the way they were born to work.

Sometimes, though, there can be a lot of fighting. Occasionally, the entire world is at war.

Bring on the hellfire.

Elizaveta couldn't have been any more thankful that Spring was arriving early. Her economy depended on the sale of crops, and she was thankful that the farms could start planting earlier and get their crops out before anyone else.

Humming to herself, she picked up the hem of her dress and continued along the way, watching the early rising farmers getting set for the day's work.

Eliza wasn't just walking around this early for the heck of it. No, she had plans for today. Gilbert was going to come around for a hunting trip.

She loved archery. It was such a technical process that you had to master it, so the thrill of releasing the arrow and hitting the target was more satisfactory than any rifle.

Checking her watch, she frowned. Gilbert was late. That was no surprise, though, the boy was constantly in trouble and forgetting things. He had once shown up four hours late, complaining that he was hungry.

Sighing, Eliza sat down on a barrel of hay and decided to wait thirty minutes. If he didn't show up by then, she was going home.

Thirty minutes ticked by, and Eliza was beginning to get extremely pissed.

_Damn him, thinking he can create his own schedule, _she thought angrily to herself, heading back down the trail. _Waste of time._

She waved hello to the people she passed, putting a cheery smile on her face. It took all her effort to not kick over a barn on her way.

Eliza was a morning person, the atmosphere was more pleasant than night, and everything was so much quieter so you could hear the birds chirping their wake up songs as you took a long walk along the perfectly lit walkways.

Yes, everything was perfect. Perfect for hunting.

_This just ruined the whole day, _she thought bitterly. Funny how much things can change.

She didn't even know where she was walking, but she knew she now had the whole day to waste on nothing since there was now a completely clear schedule ahead of her. Every meeting for the day had been rescheduled for this day.

Eliza knew of a small place where she used to hide when she was young. It still had her supply to keep her comfortable, and she could escape from the mayhem of the city there, only a short walk ahead. Ten minutes, tops.

You couldn't frown for long this early, no matter how difficult your start to the day was. It was the magic of the countryside of Hungary. Yes, Eliza was proud of her people.

The door was opened slightly, creaking the rest of the way open due to ages of not being opened. The dust caused her to cough, shielding her eyes from the light pouring through the broken windows.

Sighing, Eliza walked inside, preparing to stretch out for a lazy Saturday. Instead, she heard the sound of a dry, hacking cough from somewhere inside.

Immediately, as a reflex, she pulled out her handheld rifle, loaded and ready, just in case. "Who's there?"

The only response was a cough, feebler this time. Keeping close to the wall, she walked deeper into the barn, trying to locate the person inside. "Hello?"

"E-eliza?"

This person knew her. "Who are you?"

"It's- it's-"

The voice faded out, hacking and what sounded like gurgling.

Eliza found the mysterious stranger in the middle of the barn, spread out on the floor. It was Gilbert, but she wouldn't have recognized him. She couldn't see his face, but he was hunched over, surrounded by a pile of blood that looked like it had been thrown up in splotches scattered across the wood and hay.

"Gilbert, what-"

He turned around, sticking his hand out to stop her. Normally, Eliza would've never listened, but his eyes stopped her. The normally violet shade had turned to a brilliant red, like they had been completely bloodshot.

Running over, he fell to the ground, choking on blood clogging his throat. She immediately flipped him over, and he spit it all out onto the floor.

"Gilbert, who did this to you?" she asked, astonished. "No, sh, don't talk!"

She ripped off the hem of her dress, using it as a cloth to wipe off the blood trickling down his neck and an open wound on his chest.

"This is going to hurt, but it stops the bleeding," she said, reassuring him. Then, she pressed down, hard, onto the cut.

He let out a shriek, but bit his lips back to stop.

Eliza didn't know what else to do, but she had to stay, or else Gilbert would bleed out. There was no hospital close enough to transfer him to.

"Now tell me. What happened?"

Gilbert opened one of his unusually bloodshot eyes. "Let go of me."

Eliza unwillingly stopped applying pressure to the wound.

"Nobody did this to me. Technically, they did, but that was so long ago."

"What are you rambling on about?" she interrupted.

He chuckled, but it turned into a cough. "I'm talking about nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"It's not nothing."

"Yes it is."

"It's not, you're bleeding out."

"This happens every year, and-"

"Every year? How are you still alive?"

"I'm not!"

Eliza stared at him, and Gilbert looked away hurriedly.

"February 25, 1947."

"Pardon me?"

"That's the day I died."

Eliza refused to believe it, shaking her head nervously. "That's nonsense. You're right here."

"Yes I am, but that doesn't mean I'm not dead. Every year on this date, I get reminded of the fact that I'm not supposed to exist. They signed off my death after the war, but as long as people still have Prussian blood in their veins, I continue to exist. I am seen as a country, even though I am not a person."

Unwanted tears formed on the corner of Eliza's eyes. "What you mean is-"

"I don't exist."


	2. To Feel Something

**September 18, 1931**

**To Feel Something**

He hated the stench of cities. The way people clung together, stuck in groups, causing traffic and making everything smell much like... well, a city.

All in all, he wasn't a people person. He preferred a quiet room with room to think and write. Calligraphy was his passion, the way the words formed so eloquently on the page gave him more joy than the prospect of war.

The scent of cherry blossoms floated in through the window, giving off the signs of approaching spring. He closed it.

A knock on the door.

"Come in," he said quietly.

"Mr. Honda, we're going to need you to sign off this before we send off the soldiers."

Nodding, he took the pen and signed them all with that signature he had practiced.

People on the streets could be heard whispering rumours of the mysterious Honda Kiku. He lived alone in a giant house, rarely leaving it, but he was in charge of all war affairs. In fact, he was responsible for the entire country, but the commoners didn't need to know about that.

The rumours were true, mostly. Kiku was a mysterious man. Even his closet companions knew barely anything of his personal life. He had no family he spoke of, no lover, no children, not even a pet. The house was completely his, and he planned to keep it that way.

In Kiku's mind, he didn't see the need for power. The way he lived was comfortable enough. Unfortunately, when you are playing the game of government, you need to stay on top, and having more land means more power. It was a game of inheritance and cards. Some people drew the short straw. Luckily, Japan didn't. Therefore, it was faced with the expectation to stay on top of the game.

At least, that was his reasoning for the invasion. Somewhere in the back of his skull, Kiku knew this plan could go horribly wrong. Not with the government, but the way the other countries would react. They weren't exactly on good terms. Not because he was rude or mean, but because he was indifferent to everything other than what involved himself.

Power wasn't the first thing on his mind, but more couldn't be bad, could it?

"Mr. Honda, we need you to initiate the attack now."

Initiate the attack. Only those three words could send that shiver of delight down his spine. Something about making the first move in the game was positively thrilling. Being the one to pick the fight, good results or bad, was a high that couldn't be replaced.

"Are we in? Over," said a soldier, unknown to Kiku, over his handheld radio. The crackly signal broadcast over the whole military base was the best sound ever.

"In. Over," he replied clearly in a loud, firm voice.

"Operation go? Over."

"Go. Over."

The radio clicked off. Now all they had to do was sit back and wait.

The hours sitting and waiting were long. Someone would check in every now and then, update when they needed a change of battle plans, but ultimately, the Manchuria area was theirs.

Being the bully for once was amazing. After all of the shit Kiku had taken after having it thrown at him, he could throw it back for once. He could organize to burn them alive. Burn their families in front of them.

The quiet ones always have the most to say, don't they? After years of sitting silent, he could let his actions speak mounds for him. The message? He was ready for this war. No longer was he going to sit back and let them run the show. Kiku was ready. No, Japan was ready.


	3. Strange Obsessions

**October 2, 1935 - May 1936**

**Strange Obsessions**

Saturday mornings were Feliciano's favourite time of the week. He would go and sit in the rolling hills, letting the breeze run over him as he daydreamed about life or lunch. Mostly lunch, though.

"Feli, today you're going to have to skip the hills. We need groceries," Grandpa Roma said over breakfast.

Feli frowned. There went his plans for the day.

The Vargas family consisted of Feli himself, the youngest of the twins, his brother, Lovino, and their grandfather, Grandpa Roma. Mr. and Mrs. Vargas had died when they both were very young, and they had been in the care of their grandpa since the age of two. Neither of them had any memories of their parents.

It wasn't too sad, since Grandpa Roma was nice to them, and a fun person. They weren't complaining about being under his care.

He had a lot of influence over the people, being a former army general and having the responsibility of the Roman Empire on his shoulders. Even after it had ended, people still looked up to him as a war hero and humorous, down to earth man.

Feliciano headed off to the market, sighing. He never complained about having to help out around the house, but, like any teenager, he wished he didn't have to. Feli had long talked about just walking out of school and setting up camp in the hills so he could paint. He loved painting, and memorizing words and formulas wasn't his forte.

Not that he didn't enjoy school. It fascinated him the way things worked, he just wasn't good at remembering how or why.

Or what. Like what he was doing in a place he couldn't recognize.

Blinking, Feliciano looked around. He had let his mind wander for so long that he must've taken a wrong turn, ending up in a part of vast countryside that he didn't recognize.

"Oh dear," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. This was the last thing he needed when Grandpa Roma needed all of the ingredients by tonight. He was having a huge dinner party, with a lot of important people from his work.

"Is anyone here?" he shouted out into the wind, squinting against the sun to get a better view. There were no camps or houses nearby.

Before Feli could sit down on the ground, he felt the feel of cool metal on the back of his head.

"Who are you?" growled an unfriendly male voice.

Feli threw his hands up, not daring to turn around. "Feliciano Vargas. I was on my way to the market, started daydreaming, got lost, and ended up here. I'm terribly sorry, please don't shoot, I'm inn-"

He was spun around suddenly, face to face with the gunman. He was taller, with clear blue eyes narrowed staring at him, blonde hair pushed and gelled back perfectly.

Hands still in the air, Feli couldn't bring himself to move. He was frozen in fear, the gun still pointed to his temple. He closed his eyes and breathed in sharply, waiting for the end...

The gun moved, back into its holster. Feliciano opened his eyes. "Oh."

"Sorry about that, sir. Carry on," the man said gruffly.

Feli didn't know what to do. "It's alright. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

He didn't answer.

"Don't be like that, I'm not some sort of spy! Promise. At least, what's your name?"

He looked away. "Ludwig."

Feli grinned. "Ludwig! Cool! Now we know each other better!"

Ludwig sighed. "Please, sir, just go now. You can get to the village taking that road."

He didn't want to leave, especially now that he had met somebody new. He hadn't even volunteered to go to the market. That could wait.

"No," he said simply, laying down onto the grass. "Not until you tell me what I want."

"I'm under code not to say. Damn, that was already too much," Ludwig said, completely flustered. It was amusing to watch.

Feli let out a little giggle. Instead of being a sweet laugh, it came out cold and harsh, the sound like a whip to Ludwig.

"If you're going to be that way, fine," he sighed, standing back up. "I have plenty of power of my own. I don't need someone like you."

"Need me?" Ludwig asked, confused. "Why would you need me? What are you going on about?"

"Come on, don't play dumb," Feli sang out, skipping ever closer. "I know what you are!"

"What I am? You're insane, sir."

"Insane? No, no, no. That would be slightly strange to you, sir." He mocked Ludwig's accent on the 'sir'.

"I don't have the faintest clue what you're talking about, and if you don't leave, I'll shoot you!" Ludwig roared, pointing his gun straight at Feliciano once more.

He smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Ring around the rosies, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall dead."

"What, never heard that song before, Luddy?" he crowed, still standing still.

"It's we all fall down, sir," Ludwig said, not lowering his weapon.

"Not in war," Feliciano whispered.

Ludwig lowered the gun immediately. "Just how much do you know?"

"Honestly? Absolutely nothing. Until this point. There's a war going on, and I intend to find out what's the meaning behind all of this."

Ludwig looked shocked. He had just been tricked by a stranger, a young man with a frustratingly charming smile and sing-song voice, into giving out top-secret information

"What kind of war?" Feliciano asked, his eyes lighting up. "Who's fighting whom? How many people are involved? Who's side are you-"

He couldn't cover up the embellishment on his jacket fast enough. Feliciano had seen.

"I see."

Their eyes met for another brief second before Feliciano took off running down the path, screaming out "Ciao!" behind him.

Feliciano arrived home, not knowing exactly what he had just done, not quite realizing how valuable the information he held was.

"Come downstairs, Feli!" called out Grandpa Roma. He had managed to buy the groceries and bring them back just in time for dinner.

Several men, dressed in casual business wear, littered their living room, drinks in hand and conversations all over.

He settled down in the corner for the night, a book in his hand and a plate of food in the other. Feliciano always did this during the long meetings. He never listened close enough to understand.

Lovino was always left out of the big conversations. Sure, he was still a teenager and not an adult with any credibility to join the cause, but he wanted to be taken seriously so bad. Nobody would look past his height and boyish face long enough to listen to what he had to say. Grandpa Roma had joked that if he wanted to be taken seriously he should get a haircut, but he refused, letting his deep brown hair grow out as long as possible.

"Aye, if it isn't Lovino!" called out one of the resistance members, Antonio. He was barely of age, and still looked young, tan skin and almost black curls. He was taller than Lovino, but not by a lot, and was constantly smiling.

"How are you doing tonight?" he asked, leaning against the wall next to him.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Hello, Antonio. What can I help you with?"

"I'm just making conversation!" he said, shaking his head, grinning at him. Why did he constantly have to grin like that? It was really irritating Lovino.

"Stop looking at me," he grumbled, starting to walk away.

Antonio had been one of the original members of the cause, being one of Grandpa Roma's war friend's son. He had grown up in Spain, then moved to rural Italy for business matters. They had grown up together, even though they lived so far apart. Antonio had a small business a good hour away, but he still made time to stop by at least once a week to check in with Grandpa Roma and occasionally have dinner.

"Lovino, you're so mean," Antonio whined, following him over to the buffet.

"Stop following me."

"Why won't you talk to me?"

"Because you're stalking me. Go away."

Antonio lifted up his hands in surrender, walking off. Lovino didn't care, he was used to being alone, especially nowadays.

As a child, he had never been able to outshine Feliciano. Not that he ever tried, but everything he did paled compared to his brother's accomplishments. He didn't blame any of his brother's doting companions. Feli was a talented artist, fast runner, and was good at football. Lovino tended to sit alone, sketching for himself and writing stories in a little notebook that he stashed away at the bottom of his desk drawer.

The meeting ended late that night, the living room totaled and the atmosphere lonely.

Back up in his room, Feliciano contemplated everything. He could care less about the meeting, but he had to uncover the mystery of Ludwig.

Feliciano wasn't allowed to talk about the secret outside of the house. He, Lovino, and Grandpa Roma possessed the secret as well, and it required them to be extremely careful about what they let slip. It was easy to make a mistake, a mistake that could cause the demise of a nation, and themselves. At the exact same time.

He wanted to see this Ludwig boy again. No, he had to. There was something going on that Feliciano wanted to get to the bottom of.

The next day, Feliciano boarded himself in his room, only coming out occasionally. A few people from last night's dinner were in the dining room, files spread out and arguing back and forth rapidly.

Lovino sat back in his chair, rocking back and forth to each leg of the chair. He was absentmindedly twirling at the piece of curled hair that stuck out from the side of his head that he thought as obnoxious.

Antonio was next to him, half asleep himself.

"The Japanese have launched an attack, and it's not pretty," said one of the men, maybe fifty, with greying brown hair and dressed up in a fancy suit. "If we don't take action, they're going to assume that because of past ties with Germany, that we're a threat."

"We aren't though," Grandpa Roma disagreed. "Well, we are, but the citizens aren't. If Germany shows up at our doorsteps with full armed personnel to say join the Nazis, they would, no matter what Feliciano says."

Lovino straightened himself back up. "What do you mean?"

Grandpa Roma whipped around, seeming to have forgotten he was there. "What we mean, Lovino, is that even though your brother is a talented little boy, when it comes to running a country and a full, armed military, he's clueless. I've been helping the government run so the whole country doesn't die out from lack of control."

That made Lovino, no matter how selfish the feeling was, feel just slightly more important.

Antonio yawned, and Grandpa Roma cast him a dirty look. "Antonio? Opinions?"

He adjusted his shirt, ruffled his hair, and grinned up at all of the adults, their faces set in disgust. He was the youngest one there, after all, and they found him inferior, no matter how intelligent he was.

"No offense to Feli, but he's a bit of an airhead. If, say, at the dinner table, you slowly ease into political talk, but keep it interesting for him, and plant the seed in his head that the Nazis are bad, no matter what encounter he has with them, he'll remember what you said and stay away. Like a child, does what mommy says."

Lovino quickly put his hand up to his mouth to cover up the little giggle that nearly escaped. That was the reason they kept Antonio around at these meetings, and why Lovino could never hate him. He was just too damn charming.

Feliciano was still up in his room, trying to wrap his mind around his need to know more. He wanted to stay with his family, in the comforts of his own home, yet he wanted to pack up his stuff and head straight for the army.

The army. Feli blinked. He'd never really thought about it. The comforts of his own home were good enough that he had never wanted anything to do with the army. Grandpa Roma, who then influenced Lovino, were highly against the government, holding meetings for their own small army of sorts to do rescue missions and work against the Italian armistice. What would they say if Feli joined?

Of course, there was no guarantee that Feliciano would ever see Ludwig again. He might be cast aside, gun in hand, as he lay in a ditch rain or snow.

Feliciano knew this would never happen, though. Yes, he was a charming person, and seemed slightly naive, but when it came to getting what he wanted, he would do anything.

Anything at all.

The clock ticked in the back of his mind as Feli lay back in bed, counting down the seconds until midnight. When the clock changed, he slowly rose, pulling his coat and shoes on. A small bag hung on the coat hanger and he grabbed that as well, swinging it over his shoulder. The door creaked as Feli opened it carefully.

There was really nowhere he could turn to. He didn't know where to apply, all he could do was head to the place where he had met Ludwig and hope for the best.

The night was cold, but Feliciano pushed through it, trying to retrace his tracks by looking at the heights of trees and placement of flowers that could serve as reminders or markers.

Eventually, he made it to the clearing. He set his bag on the ground and sat down, looking up at the stars. The sky was a bit cloudy that night, and they were hidden.

He didn't known how long he waited. Hours, minutes, whatever it was, but when the sky had just begun to get a tad bit lighter, he heard the sound of footprints.

Looking up, Feli smiled. Ludwig was marching towards him, the same rifle in hand.

"What're you doing here again?" he snarled, the gun loaded and pointed at his chest. "Go away, pest."

"I want to join you."

Ludwig blinked, not expecting this. "You what?"

"I want to join you," he said again, never breaking eye contact with him. "I want to fight for you. Learn the secrets to the military. Learn the secrets about you, dear."

His voice got quieter with each line, until it was but a whisper, a huge grin spread across his face.

Ludwig turned away. "You're not fit for the military."

Feliciano frowned. Everybody did this, underestimating what he could accomplish. "Oh really?"

"Really. You're just a young, scrawny boy with a dream. Now get lost."

"Just a young boy?" he giggled. "I have the ability to ruin a government in seconds. My name is just enough to get any information I desire. I'd be a valuable resource to have. I may not have total control over what the citizens of Italy decide to do, but you can be damn sure that once I choose my side, they'll follow suit."

Ludwig raised his eyebrows, doubting him. "I have the ability to summon an entire army in one second if I snap my fingers right now. Want to risk that?"

"I'd love to risk it."

None of Ludwig's intimidation was working on Feliciano, and he was infuriated.

"This is a yay or nay situation, but do you happen to represent something... important?" Feliciano asked casually.

Ludwig's eyes widened. "Just who are you?" he asked.

"Feliciano Vargas. Feli. Veneziano. Italy. All are acceptable."

Back at the Vargas residence, Lovino was rising from the sunlight streaming in through the open curtains.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Down the stairs, he called out, "Grandpa Roma! Where's the-"

He opened the kitchen door. "-milk."

Antonio was in the kitchen, sitting at the table, reading a book. "Good morning, Lovino!"

"What are you doing in my kitchen?" he grumbled.

"I'm waiting for your grandfather to come back. He's in town, getting a package that was just delivered. We have to assess it to see if the contents are of any use to us."

He shrugged. "Whatever. Is there breakfast?"

Antonio pointed to the counter, his nose still in the book, where a plate of eggs and toast sat.

"Feli! Get your ass downstairs, breakfast is ready!"

No reply.

Lovino moaned, annoyed with his younger brother. "Feliciano Vargas, downstairs now!"

Antonio chuckled from behind his book, looking up to lock eyes with him. He looked Lovino up and down with a grin on his face, making him blush.

He bounded up the stairs, barging into his brother's room. "Feli, I swear to-"

There was no one there.

"Feli?"

He came back downstairs. "Antonio, is Feli already downstairs? Is this a trick?"

He placed the book down. "No, Roma said both of you were sleeping upstairs and to not wake either of you. I swear."

They looked around the house, outside, all over. They checked with neighbors, they looked for secret doors he could've stumbled through. Every ridiculous possibility of where he could be in the house had been checked off.

Lovino could barely register what was happening. "Oh my god," he faltered, his eyes getting watery. "Damn it, don't cry, don't-"

A few tears fell out of Lovino's eyes, and he wiped them away quickly.

Antonio had a grave look on his face. "We have to tell your Grandpa when he comes back."

Lovino nodded, still trying to fight back tears.

He broke, running to Antonio. He took him in his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around Lovino's waist as he hugged Antonio's neck, head buried in his shoulder.

Antonio whispered something to him that he couldn't hear, rocking him back and forth slowly to calm him.

"What in the world is going on here?"

They let go quickly, Lovino blushing furiously, Antonio avoiding Grandpa Roma's glaring with an embarrassed look.

He set down a package on the table, rattling the foundation of the room. "Explanation. Now."

Antonio cleared his throat nervously. "It's not what you think-"

"-not at all-"

"-goodness no, I would never-"

"-he and I wouldn't-"

"-um, I was comforting him-"

"-yeah-"

"-because we found out some bad news-"

"-really bad news-"

"-like, terrible news-"

Grandpa Roma coughed loudly, interrupting them. "What's the news?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

Lovino and Antonio locked eyes for a second, looking away quickly.

"Feli's not upstairs," Lovino said.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for more. "And?"

"I mean, he's not anywhere in the house."

"We've checked everywhere. In here, backyard, front yard, with neighbors, he's simply nowhere to be found," Antonio added.

His face changed from uncomfortable to concerned in an instant. "We can't have him wandering around!"

"Exactly. Where could he have gone?"

Lovino just sat to the side, completely stunned. While his brother was an idiot and infuriated him almost every second he existed, Lovino still cared for Feli. He wouldn't stand for his brother running away.

Feli hadn't ever felt quite like this before. This want, no, this need to know more. He needed information, he needed to be told what was going on. It helped that Ludwig was, albeit strong, rather easy to convince and flatter his way in. He let his pride get the best of him. Feli felt strongly that a man with nothing left but his pride is dead.

"I don't know what you want," Ludwig sighed, throwing his cap aside and sitting down on a matted chair.

"It's quite simple. I want to know everything," he laughed coldly, tracing the banister with his pointer finger lightly as he spoke, always maintaining eye contact.

Ludwig laughed. "You undermine me. I am more than meets the eye. I have a brain, and there is no way I'm going to just hand you information held in the utmost secrecy just because you out-sourced me once. That's not how it works."

Feli knew this was going to be a low blow for him, but he had to try it.

He knew he was a bit different. More interested in himself than everyone else in the world around him, but always keeping that inside with a cheery smile and a bright hello. Feli also knew that plenty of people found him attractive. He had never had a girlfriend before, nor was he ever interested in one, but plenty of village belles had walked over to him, giggling, surrounded by their friends, and handed him roses and small gifts accompanied by a small note asking if they could go out. Each one he turned down politely.

Feli was aware of the fact that he was boyishly charming, but that wasn't going to work here. If he wanted to seem tough, he was going to have to play tough.

"No, that's not how it works exactly," he said, grinning, voice dropping with each word he spoke. "However, rules can be twisted."

Ludwig hadn't quite caught on yet, eyes still furrowed and lost. "I'll tell you what," he began. "If you can prove to me that you're more than just a little boy playing toy soldier, then I'll let you in to the military here. If you can then somehow make your way around the Lieutenant and get a top notch job, the information is yours."

Feli nodded, the smile fading. It wouldn't require that quite yet.

"Fair enough. Shake on it?"

Ludwig grasped his hand firmly, then letting go quickly. "Good luck."

Feli put on another charming smile. "Luck is for those who need help beginning to accomplish their goals. I need applause."

He ran home, laughing loudly to himself as the cool air hit his face. He never stopped, not even when his legs began to hurt, because the energy he had was astounding.

Swinging open the doors, he couldn't see anybody.

"Hello?"

"Oh my god!" a voice shouted, sprinting down the staircase and colliding into him.

"Ow!" he proclaimed, head hitting the stone wall behind him.

Lovino was hugging him, well, more like choking him.

Finally he let go, only to scream behind his back, "Grandpa, Antonio, look who's decided to show up!"

Feli tilted his head. "Decided to-?"

"Feliciano, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Grandpa Roma roared, coming in from the kitchen.

"I was just in the village, nowhere else-"

"It doesn't matter where you were, it matters that you were there!"

Antonio slid down the banister, joining up with the rest of them.

"Hello, Antonio," he said, waving briefly.

"Hola, Feli," he responded breezily, keeping his eye on the tempered Grandpa Roma. "Maybe it's best that Lovino and I leave now."

Lovino turned and walked out of the room quickly, not wanting to face his grandfather's wrath directed at his younger brother.

Behind the closed kitchen door, Lovino began to make busy with dinner, clanging pots and pans around.

"What's the rush?" asked Antonio, leaning against the cabinets easily.

"I don't know, I'm just trying to find something to do," he spit out, picking up different lids and clanging them against the pot to find the one that fit.

"Sh, calm down," he said, chuckling. Antonio reached out and touched Lovino's arms lightly, bringing the lid on down.

Lovino elbowed him in the gut, pushing him away. "Get off me, creep!"

Antonio, massaging where Lovino had just hit him, laughed heartily. "You are always a surprise to me. When I begin to think I know you, I realize I don't. It's intriguing."

"What are you rambling on about, bastard?"

"One second you're running into my arms and the next second pushing me away."

Lovino scowled at the grin on his face. "Shut up."

He picked up the lids again, putting them up to his mouth to cover up the little grin that slipped through.

Grandpa Roma hadn't spoken for five minutes, and Feliciano was beginning to get bored with the suspense. Couldn't he just yell at him, ground him, and get it over with?

"Grandpa, come on. Just say something," he begged.

"I have plenty to say, alright!" he roared, putting on the angry tone again.

"Let's hear it."

"Oh, you will hear it!" he said, eyes squinting dangerously. "There are things going on in the world right now, things that you just couldn't understand. Things too big for you to comprehend. I will not have my grandson make a fool of himself, and I especially will not let him get hurt simply because of one stupid mistake. You have to stick to the village during the day, and be back when I say so. No buts, ands, or ifs. That's the rules, starting now, and ending only when this whole thing has blown over or when you learn to grow up."

Feliciano had heard so much in his life. About how pretty, talented, and sweet he was. He watched his brother sit in the shadow of him, sulking over how they all ignored him. In truth, Feli would trade lives with Lovino in an instant. All of the unwanted attention was driving him insane. He didn't want to be known as the charming village boy. There was a side of him that longed not to be known, but feared.

Grandpa Roma had always treasured him, regardless of how dumb he thought Feli was. This was the last straw. It was apparent that he was nothing but an object to everyone else in the world.

This would be abusing his powers. They weren't even really powers, just an inherited right, passed down from blood and birth. It was in his genes to be this person, to rule the strange way he did, but he did rule.

Feli stormed up to his room, leaving behind a mess that he would surely have to clean up later. He didn't care. Cleaning wasn't a problem. After all, all battlefields need to be cleansed if they are to be used again. One shouldn't fight with the remains of another battle in plain sight.

All he had to do was write the words. Then it would all be over, yet it would've just begun. This could be a long feud that started in a moment of anger.

He sat back and thought. Feli thought for so long his mind began to hurt. He wanted to stay in Italy, to live the sheltered, comfortable lifestyle he did, but he also wanted to create hell, to find out the secret that the Germans, secret war, and Ludwig held. Feli wanted to see Ludwig again, yet at the same time he wanted to forget he ever existed.

The pen scribbled across the page angrily, his temper getting ahead of him. Without thinking, he threw the note out the window.

It never touched the ground.

The anger was really seeping through his veins. Sending a message written in anger couldn't be a good thing.

_Sent._

Well, shit.

Feliciano pushed the computer back, wondering what the hell he had just done.

Throwing on a coat and slipping on his boots, he unlatched the window and jumped off the terrace. He felt his ankle give in, but kept walking, putting as little pressure as possible on it.

The village was nearby now, and Feliciano could see the little apartment building right above the marketplace had the lights on, flickering in the dim night.

He quickened his pace, needing to make sure they wouldn't lock him out before it was too late.

A sharp knock on the door and it swung open.

"Come in, sir," said Claude, the butler of the house. Anyone on the streets would assume that such a dingy building would never have their own line of servants, but this wasn't what it seemed to be.

In the heart of Italy stood an organization hidden in the shadows. A place where Feliciano could hide his secret from the rest of the village, from everyone. A place where everything that was said was kept in the utmost secrecy. Nothing discussed inside the conference room would ever leave there.

"I've received your message," said the man behind the chair. His back was to them, only the red velvet material and golden base facing him. Feliciano stood awkwardly, trying not to feel too out of place amidst the grand demeanor of the place.

"Yes, well, what I've said is final," he stated calmly, clearing his voice.

"Are you sure? It's quite a feat to accomplish, coming from a kid like you."

His face burned. "I am not a child, and refuse to be treated as such. Follow my orders or face my wrath."

The man laughed heartily. "What wrath? You've shown nothing but cowardly actions in all of your years as supreme ruler of all." His voice turned the words into more of a sharp whip to the ego.

"You listen to me," he began, walking closer. "You are nothing but an object to me. An object to carry out my orders, to have a professional representative for MY ORDERS. Do you hear me? If I wanted to, I could have you disposed at any moment. Right now, if I so choose. So think before you open up your mouth to say something that makes you seem more important than your pathetic little brain could ever be. You. Are. A. PAWN."

He turned around, eyes cold with hatred. "You know I hate you, kid."

Feli smiled. "I couldn't care less."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "It's already done."

"Good."

Turning around, he left the building. Claude ushered him outside, wishing him luck.

"Why is it always luck?" Feliciano muttered.

He didn't go home quite yet. No, he took a turn and headed back to the clearing in the woods.

The night was cold, but Feliciano sat right in the middle of the clearing, refusing to leave until Ludwig showed up again.

After what could've been forever, he appeared.

"Hello, Feliciano."

Feli grinned, opening his eyes. They looked ghostly pale when reflected with moonlight. "That's the first time you've really used my name."

His facial expressions didn't change. "What do you need?"

"I've proven myself worthy."

Ludwig scoffed. "I highly doubt that you could've done something in that amount of ti-"

"Sir!" yelled another figure running towards them. "Sir, the Italians have their own plan! We're not the only ones at war!"

Ludwig turned to face Feliciano. He was emitting a high-pitched laugh that echoed in the forest, carrying out to all corners softly.

Ludwig's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Just who are you?"

"I can be either your best friend or your worst nightmare."

He shook his head, trying to clear it.

Feli laughed. "I have no preference."


	4. Red Ink

**October 25 - November 1, 1936**

**Red Ink**

The beginning of winter had begun to take its toll on nature, and all of the trees had completely shed their leaves and the grass had all died by now, leaving the Italian countryside bare and ugly looking, in Lovino's opinion.

Ever since that day long ago, he had become even more cross. Grandpa Roma had been beyond furious. Lovino could never remember seeing him so upset. He had constantly warned the two of them that if they abused their power or planned an attack without a good, solid reason, they were screamed. Feli had done just that.

Lovino gripped the basket of laundry in his hands tighter, until his knuckles turned white.

"Are you alright?" asked Antonio, suddenly appearing in the garden.

Lovino jumped, spilling all of the clothes into the mud.

"Fuck," he muttered, looking at the mess he'd made.

"Don't worry, I'll help!" Antonio exclaimed, kneeling to pick up everything.

Antonio had stayed with them for a while before finding his own place in the village. He had stated that he would be staying in Italy for a while to help Grandpa Roma with the business that needed to be attended to. They tried to shelter Lovino from all of the talk of battle and war, but he knew exactly what was going on. Grandpa Roma had been extremely opposed to the route of government Feliciano had decided to inflict upon the population, but since he'd agreed that when they were legal adults they could run however they so choose, he stayed out.

It was sad, actually. Lovino would watch Grandpa Roma's eyes during the meetings. A part of him wished he had stepped in to avoid anything happening, another part of him was proud that his grandson had finally grown up.

"Are you staying for dinner again?" Lovino asked, then regretting it. The question made it sound like an invitation.

"Not tonight," Antonio said, putting the last piece of clothing back in the basket. "I have to stay at my place. Boring paperwork."

"Alright," he said, walking away, leaving Antonio alone in the garden.

On the other side, where he couldn't be seen, he sat against the wall, head leaning back, and breathed in deeply. Lovino didn't really know what he was thinking.

"Lovino, where are you?"

"I'm right here!" he yelled back to his grandfather. "I'll be in, just give me a second!"

Picking up the laundry basket, he shook his head. There was nothing that could be done to erase the mistakes of his brother, but something could be done to fix them. That was all they had to focus on.

Nobody had seen Feliciano in months. He had simply disappeared off the face of the planet, or so it seemed. Grandpa Roma bet that he was somewhere with the army, that they had brainwashed him into this. Lovino knew better. Feliciano had just gotten so sick of what he was and decided to do something to distinguish who he was.

The first thing he noticed was that the fire needed to be relit.

The rest of the room slowly came into detail.

Shades of maroon, olive, and brown filled tapestries and strangely embroidered furniture. Each dimly lit oil lamp gave it a strange aura, something mysterious that clung to the air.

Feliciano and Ludwig waited for the others that were supposed to arrive any second now.

Ludwig had only briefly explained to his ally, reluctant though he was to the term, about what was going on.

Apparently, the Nazis movement had picked up on other attacks over Asia. Japanese forces had begun to invade areas around Manchuria. With the Ethiopian annexation from new-formed Fascist Italy, it would be dumb not to meet together and discuss their goals and see what common ground they found.

Fascist Italy. Feliciano felt proud to have started a new movement, a new chapter in their history. Something that would start Italy down the path of success. After years of taking crap from others, of putting up with being told he'd amount to nothing, Feli was finally doing something.

Kiku felt the same way, and it showed. Every time he walked into a room, he had a cruel sort of air around him, always grinning at inopportune moments.

The double doors swung open. Feli put down the vase he was inspecting, and Ludwig turned around.

The man was not what Ludwig had expected. He had been thinking of someone burly, with muscle, strong and capable enough to pull of a military attack single-handedly. Instead, he was rather skinny. Dressed in an all-white uniform with golden embellishment and tassels on the sleeves, and strictly cut jet black hair with front bangs that made him look very strict and put-together.

"You would be Lieutenant Ludwig Beilshmidt then, I presume? And Private Feliciano Vargas?"

Ludwig walked up to greet him with a firm handshake which he responded to daintily, barely holding down and instead bowing afterwards. "Yes then. You called me here? I'm rather busy."

Feliciano narrowed his eyes, taking in everything he did. Usually Feli had no problem noting what people were feeling as if they were an open book, but this Kiku figure was a bit harder. He kept his face hardened, emotionless.

"How was the journey?" asked Feli carefully, smiling sweetly directly at Kiku.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, eyes darting around. "Just fine."

There, that was his weakness.

Ludwig began to speak. "We have heard of your movements on the Manchuria district, and were formally-"

"We'll pass," Feliciano interrupted.

Ludwig nearly choked on air. "Since when were you in charge of anything? I haven't even pitched the idea yet!"

"We'll pass on our offer. It's over, done. Not interested any more."

"Not interested?" Ludwig roared. "How are you so damn sure we're not fucking interested? I swear to god, you are like a child! This is war!"

Kiku's eyes widened jut the slightest, grinning underneath his breath. "War? I see what you're getting at."

He took a few steps over to look out the window. "I'm not interested in having allies. This is my bone to pick with China and Russia-san. Not yours."

"Just think for a second," Ludwig said, having calmed himself down. "You have an extremely capable military. Mine is feared throughout. His country has extreme political pull and influence which will come in handy when and if we were to form a pact."

"We're not interested," Feli said again, his voice dropping down to a near whisper.

Nobody spoke, just looking at him, lost. Feliciano continued. "It took me a second, but I understand you. You have no interest in war, you just want revenge. It's pathetic," he spat out.

Kiku smiled faintly. "Excuse me if I'm wrong, but isn't it a bit pompous of you to judge a person when you've barely spoken to them?"

"I don't take risks when it comes to war. I create them."

He clapped his hands once, staring straight at Feli's amber eyes burning into him.

"Then let's create a little risk."

Feli laughed coldly, keeping his eyes locked with Kiku's. "I'm alright, thanks for asking. I, unlike you, create a little risk every single day. I don't wait until war. If you wait, you'll regret it. They won't see you as a threat."

Ludwig chuckled. "Feliciano, you have a valid point, but nobody views Italy as much of a threat."

"That's their mistake," he said softly, "which will then be their downfall."

"You made an annexation, not a declaration of war. Not the biggest risk you could take."

"It is!" Feli said, beginning to get frustrated. He punched the wall with one closed fist, his tiny body mustering up all of the strength it could. "They are expecting me to get mad! To attack without reason! The world views me as a child, and I've had enough! Anyone stupid enough to call me a child will have the death of them for sure! No exceptions!"

"You can't just go killing people who tease you," Ludwig pointed out.

"No I cannot, but I sure as hell can make them pay."

Ludwig let out a barking laugh.

Feliciano snapped his head around, narrowing his eyes. "Laugh as much as you want. I can't stop you. Just remember, tough guys like you, they keep silent not because they can't scream, but because they can."

"I'm confused."

"You should be."

Feli dragged a finger daintily across the furniture, taking one slow step at a time closer to Ludwig. He grinned, brushing off his jacket and pulling down his necktie to whisper something in his ear.

"I will make you love me. Then I will throw you away."


	5. Closer to Beginnings

**November 25, 1936**

**Closer to Beginnings**

The feeling was bittersweet. An unwelcome sour tinge to the sweet face it held as a mask. Poised in manner, charm in personality, cold in the heart.

That was the only way Kiku could explain Feliciano Vargas. The man, no, the boy, was nothing but a tyrant, quickly hiding his anger he felt with a smile and a wave. His boyish mannerism and charismatic qualities made him who he seemed to be, rather than who he was.

He shook his head. No, this was a new chapter, a new era. He mustn't think poorly of the ones who, no matter their direction, were helping him with his revenge.

He had never quite realized how messy signatures were. You were signing your name on a piece of paper that could be viewed by anyone, which then somehow meant you would all fight to the death together.

Not that any of them would die.

And not that it would always just be the three of them. No, if Kiku's plan worked and his military had it prepared in time for his return, there would be much more chaos than poor Ludwig and Feliciano would have ever predicted.

It all worked out quite well, actually. Now he had people backing him up in case things went horribly wrong, along with that damned Italy's new pull in Ethiopia.

He hadn't the slightest clue how he'd pulled it off. Not that Kiku ever involved himself with the mess of blood and battle, but Feliciano didn't seem like the type to fight.

None of them did, besides Ludwig. Kiku had his doubts about the angry German. He seemed to act in greed rather than due to actual intelligence, but he wasn't going to judge him before he saw his actions.

Just a year ago, the thought of a treaty like this would've made Kiku's heart race and his face pale. Now here he was, traveling across the world at the call of a stranger to sign a treaty of war.

What a glorious feeling.

Everything seemed to be cold. The earth, the air, his jacket, his body, all frozen over. Winter had barely begun, but this season was proving to be a horrible one indeed. Nothing could go well, and Ivan was bored.

He sat, skinny legs dangling where they couldn't quite reach the ground from his height on an icy barrel, watching the new-fallen snow getting trampled on by the shrieking, delighted kids.

"Ivan, sir, do you plan on ever leaving from atop there?" what looked like a ten year old boy asked, his friends embarrassedly making and breaking eye contact behind him.

"No, I'll be fine," he said, tilting his head and smiling cheerily. "Run along."

The boy nodded and backed away quickly, rejoining his friends in a snowball fight.

Ivan watched the people go by every day, never joining them. People viewed him as the lonely, sweet boy who sat atop the barrel, looking at the passing snow, thinking.

He wasn't thinking. In fact, Ivan had learned to shut his brain off when he didn't need it, wandering around in a blissfully unaware state of mind, nothing to bother or worry him.

His superiors hated his attitude towards things. Yes, Ivan was beyond intelligent and extremely malicious, but he acted like he couldn't care less.

Ivan wanted more.

"Get off from there," growled a female voice from below.

He recognized the person speaking, jumping down, landing perfectly in the snow without stumbling.

"You've become quite the character," she said, rolling her eyes.

Nobody bothered to ask if they were related, because they looked so similar. A light tan coloured hair, closer to grey and blonde than brown, eyes a light violet colour. Their skin was pale, being constantly covered by heavy cloaks, never in the sun, and they were both tall and skinny.

"Are you going to answer me?" she shrieked, hitting him with her purse.

He shook his head no, licking his lips slowly, as he kept staring at the ground.

She took her purse and smacked him harder across the arm. "Answer me!"

"Natalia, you're the one causing a scene here," he said, giggling under his breath. Those harsh eyes met hers and she shut up.

The street cleared for the two walking down, unbeknownst to them.

"He would like to see you," she said, voice softer.

Ivan nodded, knowing immediately who she was speaking of. It was his superior, if you could call someone of his mere standing a superior to Ivan.

He was the voice of Ivan, giving the face to the general media for words that needed to be heard. Ivan himself could never be seen, in case someone out there in the same state as him recognized him and knew of his location.

Russia was a vast country, spreading out many miles. As far as anyone knew, he could be anywhere in Russia, and then again, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he is in a nearby European country. Maybe he is your next door neighbor. Maybe he is behind you.

Nobody was ever quite sure, and the poor, average citizens wouldn't have the slightest clue. Still, Ivan and Natalia had to be careful. The average citizen could turn out to be anything but.

"Katerina is at home," Natalia said stiffly, patting down the fur of her coat.

The city feared them because they were what they wanted to be. Fame for seemingly no reason. Everyone knew of the Braginsky family name.

Donned in simple elegance, they made an entrance and an exit with every step. A pale snowflake, seemingly melting, or disappearing, before you could focus your eyes on them.

"Your friend also called again. Apparently, he's worried that they've teamed up with the Germans. Not sure what those krauts would be able to do to us, but he was insistent you call him back."

Ivan nodded again, mind not quite focused on what she was saying. "I will."

"He's a handful. Don't know how you put up with him."

"He's not that bad," he argued reasonably, shrugging his shoulders.

Natalia scowled. "I don't know why I bother talking to you. Get your head back down to earth."

Ivan stopped walking, turning to face her slowly. "Really?" he chuckled. "When my head comes out of the clouds, bad things tend to happen."

She reached out and grabbed his scarf, bringing his face mere inches from hers. "You're not in the clouds. That's where the good people go. You've got your head buried in the dirt, and when you come back to earth, bring hell back with you."

Ivan smiled, linking his arm with his sister's. "Oh, but hell is so comfortable."

Natalia laughed coldly, shooting a dark look at a frightened young couple. "Earth is where the real chaos is."

"Suppose you're right."

"Aren't I always?"

Footsteps echoed in the dark hallways. The sun had long since set, and Feliciano wandered alone throughout the building, looking for something he didn't even know.

The sound was low and quiet, sending chills up his spine with every whisper the floorboards emitted. The dead of night was quite a nerve-wracking time, after all.

In all truth, he missed his family. He missed home cooked meals, especially pasta, his grandfather singing drunken songs with him till early hours of the morning after the fun dinner party meetings, Lovino scowling at them both. He missed his brother a lot, even when Lovino would do nothing but smack him upside the head. They were close and cared for each other, no matter how tough times got. He missed all of his friends in the village and in the shops, Antonio, and the regular guests that stopped by to converse with Grandpa Roma.

Most of all, he missed feeling completely safe.

Even the sun's rays were dimly lit that day. Bleak, like they weren't even trying.

Feliciano could feel nothing but dread for the approaching hour. Of course, as soon as Ludwig entered the room, he quickly tucked that uneasiness away.

"Good morning," he said, giving him a half smile. "Sleep well?"

"Fine," Ludwig grumbled, not bothering to make eye contact before pouring himself a glass of water.

Feli hoisted himself up onto the counter, crossing his legs at the knees.

"Don't dirty up the kitchen," Ludwig said, still not looking at him.

"Sex," Feli said slyly.

He coughed, choking on the water. "Excuse me?"

"You said don't dirty up the kitchen," he giggled.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "You're a vulgar boy, Feliciano."

Kiku strolled into the kitchen, keeping his head low as he bowed in greeting. "Sorry to interrupt. I'm not accustomed to-"

"It's fine," Ludwig interrupted, ushering for him to have a seat.

The two sat at the table, Feliciano staying up on the counter. An ashy grey cat strolled in, hopping up onto his lap.

A stern looking official walked into the room, adorned in the same military uniform for the entire German army. "We've received word."

"Good," Ludwig said. "And?"

"Everything is go, boss says. The empirical Japan and Fascist Italy will prove to be strong allies."

Feliciano smiled happily, still stroking the cat. He knew the feeling would be fleeting, but at least just for a second, he felt completely safe again. He was going to have full support from Japan and Germany. Italy's reign wouldn't be alone.

"There's only one problem, says boss," the official said nervously, taking out a file from beneath his arms.

It was more fleeting that Feli had imagined.

"Shoot."

Kiku locked eyes with Feli nervously, waiting for the catch that would either make or break the deal.

"Sir, according to this, we have a different motive for war than the Japanese troops. They're fighting simply for the sake of revenge from the Soviet district and rise of communism, we're in this to get back at the ones who have pulled us down."

Feliciano tilted his head to the side, confused. "Pulled you down? Germany is a stable country, nobody's been against you."

"You'd be wrong, mister," the official said. "That damn Versailles treaty took our land. It's simple, the boss wants it back."

"So you just want our help getting the land back?" Kiku asked. "That's fine."

"We will eliminate all not like us, so it's good you agree," the soldier threatened.

Feliciano laughed. "Was that supposed to be a threat?"

"It was. Those fucking Jews led to our defeat in World War One and we'll be damned if we let them win again."

"What kind of sick mindset is this?" Feliciano wondered.

"It's the mindset of boss. Of German pride. Take it or leave it."

"Ludwig?" Kiku said nervously, turning to face him.

Ludwig's face was unmoving, staring ahead at the wall with squinted, set eyes.

"Take it or leave it," the official repeated.

"We're just letting you know this," the official added. "For now, boss wants to focus on getting rid of the horrible communist wave spreading through Asia and parts of Europe."

"Why?"

"Because Communism messes with German power."

A stack of paper landed with a soft thump on the desk, shaking the weak legs. Each page listed, in much more words, exactly what the official had just clarified.

The treaty was called the Anti-Comintern Pact, but it might as well have read fight to live or fight to die.

The contents stated that for now, their mission would be to rid the world of communist pull, but Feliciano and Kiku knew better. This would mean war.


	6. End to Start

**July 7, 1937**

**End to Start**

In a time where nothing can be done to save us, so hold me by these words: we are one. We shall hold our heads high whilst the battle rages around us for the glory and pride of Empirical Japan.

Sun rose high in the sky and only left during the late hours of the night. Children played while adults shopped freely in the outdoors market.

Kiku had not truly enjoyed a Summer's day in a long time, cooping himself up indoors. Now, he walked along the paths, bowing in greeting to all who passed.

They looked so out of place, passing hurried, happy folks in fluttering silk clothing, them in sturdy, heavy military uniform.

Ludwig had demanded that Feliciano wear a uniform. He had refused the one that Ludwig wore religiously, saying the olive tones were "drab." Sighing, he gave up, wondering how the colour of the uniform would affect his performance in battle and as a leader.

"How in the world will you fight in that thing?" Ludwig protested. "It's blue. Goddamn blue. Fucking skin-tight goddamn blue."

"So you like it?" Feli laughed, twirling around.

Ludwig rolled his eyes at the memory. He had always lived to serve and fight, yet this war was a mystery to his ready mind. It was moving so fast, yet so slow.

"Boom," whispered Feliciano, eyes narrowed onto the incoming city.

"Don't get any ideas," he muttered, keeping a close eye on the laughing boy.

They entered the city, leaving behind the morning-lit countryside to the still quiet centre of Japan.

Inside of the building, waiting, was Kiku, sitting back in his chair and smiling softly, eyes closed. He looked downright insane.

"You called us?" Ludwig asked, opening the door.

"Hello," Feliciano said cheerfully, waving.

He sat up and opened his eyes, still smiling. "Yes, I called you here. I agree with Feliciano."

Feliciano grinned at Ludwig, and his face turned red. "Why is that?"

"We're all too different in what we want to accomplish, and why. The only difference is, who's going to do something?"

"All of us, of course."

"Who's going to do something right now," Kiku clarified.

Ludwig narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "No."

"Yes," Kiku laughed.

The door, already opened, was now occupied by several Japanese soldiers. "Sir?"

Kiku stood up and passed the two bewildered guests. "The contract binds us together. Now I will do what I wanted to accomplish. Good luck."

They marched away without another word.

The smell of something cooking nearby woke Wang up, and he rolled out of bed and trudged to the kitchen.

"Is that for me?" he asked teasingly, stretching.

"Of course not, I get some, right?" the woman laughed, stirring whatever was in the pot.

At first, Wang had only agreed to Hanna's stay to avoid Ivan's cruel retaliation. The two men were seemingly close, but did not like each other.

He liked having Hanna around. She was quiet, intelligent, and a good cook, giving him some variation in his normally dull lifestyle.

Of course, Wang couldn't push away the nagging feeling that he was a coward for pushing away his duties in search of an easier life. Sure, taking care of the crops was hard and often boring work, but it was much preferred to the busy lifestyle of having a nation depend on your actions. The pressure was too much.

"I made extra, so take as much as you want," Hanna said, setting down the spoon and helping herself to the soup. "Get it yourself though."

Everything about the countryside was sweeter. The air, food, water, and people, all had such a different culture from the more advanced cities.

It was almost enough to make him forget everything.

_No sound more bitter than the sound of war_

_for it lingers in the air_

_The people feel it in their bones_

_the soldiers almost there_

_They gather up the weaponry_

_and hold it at their side_

_As they trudge off to battlefield_

_and tell their last goodbye_

_When morning comes, the mourning comes_

_all will have done their deed_

_To enter in the sound of war_

_a sight one dies to see_

Air cold, morning colder.

The sound of boots against the cold, hard ground gave a raw, electrifying feeling to the air, creeping up his spine as he stepped in time.

_Step, step, step, step._

Beautiful sounds.

_Step, step, step step._

What was he doing?

_Step, step, step, step._

His lovely noise.

_Step, step, step, step._

Their lovely noises.

_Step, step, step, step._

My beautiful noise.

_Step, step, step, step._

Share the noise.

_Step, step, step, boom._


	7. Incorporating Corporations

**March 11 - 13, 1938**

**Incorporating Corporations**

She was a flame. A hunger yearned in her for more power and just more. More of everything. The flame that was her started small and then erupted, bursting everything she touched into flames.

She would do almost anything to get what she wanted.

Hearts were pawns. Blessed with a cunning smile and good looks, she charmed herself into any situation, leaving before the morning.

But only after she got what she wanted.

"Elizaveta dearest, are you ready?"

She smiled, setting the brush down lightly, giving her hair one last toss.

"I'm coming."

Every social gathering was the same. People bragging loudly over one another, getting a bit too hearty on drinks. Business was discussed, fake smiles and lies of congratulations were passed around. Not a single pair of eyes had that sparkle in them that said, _I mean what I'm saying._ No, they all might as well just say, "I could've done better."

"I hate these," Roderich complained, twirling his glass of champagne in his palm.

"Nobody is really forcing you to go," Elizaveta said, shrugging her shoulders. She looked stunning as always, wavy brown hair pushed all to the side over a long-sleeved tight black dress.

They were arm in arm, walking the block up to the snazzy media theatre Roderich's agent had chosen for tonight's show of its own.

"It's organized by my boss."

"Oh," she sighed. "That's different."

Roderich had loved music from a very young age. He never quit playing, on the piano banging out song after song for days on end. He had played for the duke and duchess, for royals and officials, and at many a gathering.

All of the attention just got tiring. The eyes constantly on him, not quite recognizing him as a swoon-worthy movie star, but as someone to look up to and admire. A golden pedestal he had never wanted, with only himself to blame.

Elizaveta had been a friend of his for a while. She was his sanity, keeping him calm when he really wanted to punch people. Roderich couldn't thank her enough for all of the efforts she put into making him who he was today: a celebrity.

Roderich didn't quite know all there was to the mystery that was Elizaveta Hedervary. She was intelligent and calm to the public eye, but the air around her words was always cold and cruel, each spoken word like a whip to your pride. Even a simple hello could seem like she was laughing at you.

It was pure irony. The woman who kept him sane was driving him mad.

She pushed open the doors, revealing a fully filled room with loud, live music and half of the people already drunk on alcohol and gossip.

"I'm going to go grab a brandy. Meet up later?" Elizaveta said, unclasping her arm from around his.

He nodded, and she slunk off, disappearing in the mass.

Elizaveta hated parties. She loved attention, but hated having to talk to so many inferior people, their heads too far up their own asses to notice how stupid they were.

She rolled her eyes, trying to avoid as many people as she could on her way to the bar. After all her hard work, she deserved a drink.

The bartender looked her up and down, pushing his hair back out of his face as she walked up to him.

"Let me get the lady a drink," he said, licking his lips and mixing something. He came back with a martini in a fancy glass. "On me."

Elizaveta smirked and pushed it back. "Do I look like a charity case?" she laughed.

"Two brandy's. One for me, one for the lady. She'd like something a little stronger than that shit you slipped her."

"I didn't think you'd show up at a fancy place like this," Elizaveta laughed. "I'm surprised."

"I've got business to attend to. Don't think I'm here because I want to see you," he growled, grabbing the seat next to her.

He was slender but muscular, slightly short, but his most remarkable feature was his pale skin, white hair, and bloodshot eyes. His hair looked almost like silver, as if it were made of snow and Christmas tinsel.

"What business could you possibly have here?" she smirked, grabbing the glass the bartender passed her.

"None of your business."

"Clever."

They both just stared at each other in silence as they took a sip, the tension almost visible.

"I'm here to talk to your boyfriend, actually," Gilbert said, breaking the silence.

Elizaveta raised her eyebrows, replying, "Roderich? He's my client."

"Client with benefits," he muttered.

She clenched her fists. "What would you need with Roderich?"

"Simply put, I need him to perform his real job."

"What real job?"

He let out a barking laugh. "Look, Eliza, I have my flaws. Being dumb is not one of them. I'm well aware that your buddy over there, having the time of his life talking to people he hates, is not just a famous concert pianist."

"You'd be right, he's not just a famous concert pianist, he's also pretty good in bed. You'd be surprised."

"You are pathetic," Gilbert spat out, setting his drink down forcefully.

"Pathetic? Oh, I'm pathetic? That was just a comment. I never told you to take it personally, but you did."

He growled, making a step towards her so she was but inches away.

"Dare me," she whispered in his ear.

"Elizaveta?" called out Roderich, sneaking up behind a plump looking man to stand next to her. "There you are! Who's this?"

She stepped backwards to pick up her drink again. "This is Gilbert Beilshmidt. He's an, ah, acquaintance."

He nodded, eyeing Gilbert, who gave him the dirtiest look possible in return.

"I see. Mind if I steal her?"

"Like hell I care," he replied, chuckling over his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Ignore him. He's always like this."

"She'd have to be tied up for me to steal her," Gilbert joked.

Roderich took her by the arm and led her away from the bar, knowing Eliza had a tendency to drink.

She took her free arm and trailed her fingers lightly over Gilbert's arm, whispering lightly, "Feel free to get some ideas."

He narrowed his eyes and watched her walk off with the unsuspecting Roderich.

Roderich was, well, the only word Gilbert could think of was pretty. He had fair, pale skin, completely unscarred or blemished, with dark brown, mussy hair, and deep blue eyes.

Gilbert could see why Elizaveta liked him. She took pride in being in charge, and Roderich was naive, intelligent, and probably easy to bend. Literally.

He smirked at the thought. She was too good.

"I feel like I know him," Roderich said suspiciously, throwing a look back over his shoulder.

"You might, from world meetings," Elizaveta said.

He sighed softly. "He's...?"

"Yes, he's Germany's brother. Prussia."

"Teutonic knights?"

"Precisely."

"I know him for sure, but not from anything recent."

Elizaveta tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we knew each other when we were younger."

"Friends?"

"Definitely not," he laughed. "I still don't think he likes me very much."

"I told you, he's always like that."

"How do you know him?"

She bit back her lip. "We w- are friends."

"I've never heard you mention him before."

"It's alright, we haven't spoken in a while, anyway."

Elizaveta didn't feel like telling Roderich everything. It wasn't like she was lying ,she just wasn't telling the whole truth. Besides, she didn't live in the past anymore. She lived in the present. In the present, she was wiser, smarter, more cautious about how she treated her heart, and how others did as well.

"No more drinks tonight," Roderich smiled.

She agreed.

Gilbert snuck out the back, feeling sick to his stomach. If only his brother would have warned him that Elizaveta's little boy toy was none other that Roderich Edelstein. A simple heads up would've been nice.

It wasn't that Gilbert hated Roderich for who he was, he hated Roderich for what he had done, and what he himself had done to him. It was a little game the two played, and the prize had always been Eliza.

Not that she was ever aware of that.

For a long stretch of time, Gilbert had thought he had won. Then one day, he screwed everything up, and she left. Now here she was, dangling Roderich right in front of his nose.

No, Gilbert hated Roderich not because he knew what he was doing to him, but because he didn't know.

"I'm done playing games," Elizaveta said softly behind him.

He turned around sharply. "How long have you been standing there?"

"About thirty seconds," she shrugged.

"Go away. I don't want you here."

"Gilbert, I know full well that's a lie and you'd come crawling back at the next sight of me-"

"-Don't assume things like that!" he yelled hotly, clutching the wall for support.

"It's not an assumption, it's an observation," she replied, smiling faintly.

"I don't want a whore like you back," he spat.

She laughed lightly, taking a few swaggering steps closer. "It's not nice to call people names, dear."

"Don't "dear" me-"

She grabbed his collar and brought him down to her height, staring straight into his eyes. "Let's make this very clear. Just because I don't want you falling back into my arms doesn't mean I'm not willing to give you one last chance to forget me."

His breath shook, and then he steadied it to say, "Make it unforgettable."

With the force of years of battle, Elizaveta all but threw him against the brick wall, hands wrapped around his waist as she kissed the base of his neck.

Gilbert cried out, whether in pleasure or pain from being pushed, she didn't care.

The party had long ended, and the room had an eerie, echoing silence to it. They dashed through the empty halls and up the stairs to the lavish hotel, grabbing an open room.

"Who's room is this?" Gilbert moaned in between touches and breathes.

"Don't know, don't care," Elizaveta replied, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as she placed him down on the bed, straddling his hips.

He looked up at her, and she reached down into her bag and brought up a pair of handcuffs.

"Someone was prepared," he smirked.

She just smiled mysteriously, chaining him to the bed.

Clothes were strewn on the floor. Shoes, a shirt, a dress, and jewelry lay in a heap.

Elizaveta leaned down to kiss him deeply, then threw her leg off the bed and stood up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gilbert asked flatly, confused.

She just smiled, putting her dress back on. "Did you really believe me?"

It all sunk into Gilbert's brain and his heart and stomach dropped. "Let me go."

"Why? You look cute like that."

"Let me go!" he yelled, struggling against the handcuffs.

Elizaveta put her shoes back on and sat down on the bed next to him, crossing her legs. "Let me tell you something. Take this as a hint, or a lesson. I don't ever want you back, and I never will. You're going to have to learn to leave me alone. Gilbert, you are the pawn I've stolen that I have no use for anymore. Good luck."

She stepped up and walked away, waving goodbye with the tips of her fingers.

The handcuffs wouldn't budge.

There was a bigger battle going on than the one that had just started. It was the war inside of Ludwig. The internal battle he was facing between the damned cunning Feliciano and his own values.

His own values told him that Feliciano was not as dumb as he had once seemed, and he was too dangerous to be in such a cause. Reckless.

His own values told him to stay away.

His thoughts told him to stay.

The door opened forcefully, slamming into the wall. Gilbert stormed into the room, face red and body shaking.

"What's the matter?" Ludwig asked, turning to face him curiously.

"I swear to everything on this Earth, I will make sure that whore will pay for everything she has done," he snarled furiously, pushing a lamp off the table and onto the floor, shattering upon contact.

"Goddamn Elizaveta Hedervary," he muttered. "And you!" He turned and pointed at Ludwig. "You could've warned me!"

"Warned you?"

"Why didn't you tell me she'd be there?"

"I knew you'd freak out," Ludwig shrugged.

"Well no shit I am!" he cried out, flipping a small desk over.

"You better calm down right now," Ludwig warned him.

Gilbert laughed maniacally, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm sick of her! Every time she makes it seem like she wants me or she loves me, I end up being kicked in the face with her leaving! She leaves me every time, and the worst part is, I keep going back."

He fell to the floor, covering his face with his jacket sleeve.

Ludwig didn't know quite what to say. After both their parents had left them in the care of their grandfather, and he worked often, Gilbert had practically raised him, giving up most of his activities to help bring him up. That's a theory Ludwig had as to why he was so wild now, because he didn't have the chance to be when he was young.

He rose up, face set in stone. "I'm done being pushed over."

Unsure, Ludwig walked over to his brother. "Don't do anything rash. I let you in on this because you are valuable, albeit slightly obnoxious. I can revoke that at any point."

Laughing, Gilbert pushed back his hair and picked up a grape, squishing it between his fingers. "Goodbye."

His hands felt as cold as the marble walls. Everything about the house was large, with its grandeur appearance. It almost felt lonely, living in such a giant place almost alone.

The door rang at just that moment. Roderich smiled at the irony.

Unlatching the door, it creaked open slowly. Elizaveta stood at the doorstep, smiling.

"Hello," he said, letting her in.

She stepped inside. At least she had gotten home safely and changed after the party. Roderich hadn't been able to find her at around twelve.

"Where did you go to?"

She didn't answer, dropping off her stuff in a pile on the chair. Now dressed in a red skirt and white blouse, he wondered if the woman even slept in tight work clothes.

In her hand was a furled up newspaper. The page had been torn and tossed around, even though it was only this mornings' edition.

He raised his eyebrows, taking it from her.

Eyes darting around, he picked up on tiny pieces of information.

_...deadly..._

_...attack..._

_...war..._

_...Japan..._

_...Nazi movement..._

_...thousands dead in China..._

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked shakily, throwing the newspaper to the ground.

Elizaveta gave him a grave look. "It's the start of the ending of life as we know it."

"We're a great force that can't be stopped," laughed another voice.

Both Roderich and Eliza turned around, looking for the source of the voice.

Gilbert stepped out from underneath the shadow of a giant marble pillar. "You're surprised? I told you, I don't want anything to do with you."

"This is your business?" Eliza screamed, face livid.

"Exactly why it's called my business, not yours," he responded cheekily.

"Why are you starting a war at this level?" Roderich asked curiously. "It seems rather petty. There's nothing I see to fight about beyond Japan and China's long-standing feud."

His hands clenched into fists. "There is more than meets the eye."

"Really?" Roderich laughed. "It just looks like the two top bullies on the playground picking fights with the smaller ones."

"So you admit we're at the top," Gilbert smiled slyly.

"There's no denying facts. You guys have so much power over the world. Use it for good."

"This is reality. There's no such thing as good here."

Elizaveta screamed. "You absolute bastard!"

Roderich walked over to her and put an arm around her waist, rocking her back and forth in an attempt to calm Eliza down.

"People will die because of your petty fighting," Roderich warned.

"Maybe you will die," Gilbert shrugged. He pulled a shiny black revolver out of the holster on his belt, pointing it straight at Roderich's head.

He paled and slowly put his hands up, backing away from Elizaveta.

"Or she could die," Gilbert said, moving the gun to point at her.

Elizaveta laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm not afraid of you or your gun."

"What about death?" He put his finger right against the trigger.

"I choose not to be afraid of death because we will all die. I can choose when that time is. I don't choose now."

She walked right up to Gilbert, each step echoing on the floor. "What do you need?"

"I need full cooperation from him," Gilbert said, pointing at Roderich.

"Why me?" Roderich sputtered.

"We need as many allies as we can get, and, although I don't want to say it, you're a powerful nation and a powerful man. Germany needs you."

"I don't quite agree with the actions you're taking," he uttered coldly, eyes darting to the newspaper still on the floor.

"He's not going anywhere," Elizaveta cut in furiously.

Gilbert turned to her. "Would you really care if he went away? You didn't seem to care too much when I disappeared."

"Of course I'd care, he's-"

"He's what, your lover? I was pretty sure you didn't feel such things as love, Elizaveta."

"I'll go," whispered Roderich.

"No you won't," Elizaveta said firmly.

He looked up at her, a pained expression on his face. "I know I'm fooling myself here, and I have been for several, oh, god knows how many years now. Still, after all this and knowing you won't return anything I feel, I'd protect you."

"I don't need your protection, you stupid boy," she said, voice breaking.

"You can't always do things on your own, you know."

"Yes I can," she muttered, closing her eyes.

He just tilted his head and shook it slowly.

"The way to a man's heart is through a broken woman's," Gilbert said, grinning. "Good to know. Come along, pretty boy."

Roderich turned around and locked eyes with Elizaveta one more time. She turned away from him.

Gilbert didn't know quite what to feel. Should he feel proud? Or lost? There was a sense of accomplishment in what he had done, recruiting more allies for his brother that would be of great use in the upcoming war. Still, there was something eating away at the back of his skull. A numbing sensation that tingled, spreading throughout his head, heart, and stomach. A feeling he could only describe as heartbreak.

The people you grow up with stay with you forever. Now here he was, leading one of them to their inevitable doom.

Roderich was older, and had always been smarter and more rational. Gilbert had often envied his level head and witty, snide remarks. He also hated him because he knew that Roderich would accomplish more than him.

The boy he had once envied was now on the same level as him.

And for a moment that should've been filled with pride, it was an empty feeling.


End file.
